Saturday, June 03, 2006

Yesterday afternoon on the way to work I had occasion to question the soundness of my mind. I had parked outside the Yoga studio, and the heat inside the car was sweltering, but NPR held onto me so tight I couldn't make myself get out into the fresh air. Why? Because they were reporting on the national spelling bee, in perticular, the part where a twelve-year-old boy spotted a mistake on the part of the judges, saving one child from wrongful elimination.

Anyway, my issue with all this is, simply, just how big of a dork am I? Pretty big I guess. This kind of shit thrills me. I don't know why, but I find it all very touching, particularly that completely entertaining documentary from a few years back. Maybe it's watching those well-meaning kids trying so hard, or maybe it's watching the tension they go through. Reminds me of the intensity of all those piano recitals and state competitions I had to endure in grade school. But this is better than that, because these kids seem to be having fun. It's the same jazz you get from watching sports, or some lucky bastard who just got told his granny's lamp is worth $35,000 on Antiques Roadshow (one of the only things I'll watch on tv, btw). In some circles I could be lambasted for comparing those two, but I'll take the risk.

It seems some grad students found the spelldown amusing enough to create a drinking game. This somewhat ameliorated my fears of complete nerditude, though I hadn't swilled anything, which probably placed me right back in the category of my fear. But then, they're grad students, so I guess we're in the same boat.

1 comment:

Don't suffer too much under the chains of your "nerditude". The National Spelling Bee is becoming a ratings draw, since it features something other than the vapid sacks of shyte you see on a typical reality show.

It's about time someone gained recognition for greater achievements than kissing audience ass, playing up to the cameras, or backstabbing their teammates, roommates, etc.

About Me

I think I've said too much already. A girl can't lay down all her cards at once. Good thing my deck goes higher than 52. I wish I were a guy so I could pee anywhere I wanted while standing up. That's real power. I'd like to meet the following: My great-great grandparents, the N. Oklahoma ones, not the Swiss gentry. My woebegone friendship with Adam G. The man who's going to be with me till we're retired to the porch swing sucking on glycerine tablets, and who still reads to me at night, while I rub his feet. My ambitions with commitment and discipline. The characters from old David Lee Roth videos. Hot carb on carb action. That fucker who keeps trying to take the bbq, in a dark alley, satan's minions, lilliputians, nigglers, pifflers, piddlers, snake-oil peddlers, cripples, do-gooders, truth-seekers, sweethearts, wandering minstrels, interlopers, robber barons, saints, sinners, people who snort and guffaw, holler and whoop, tender tender people with good hearts, and all my fat little babies. I like BUTTER! And Vitamin Z!